Broken Wings
by TheGirlWhoRemembers
Summary: Michael fell to a Killing Curse right in front of him. Anthony bled out as he tried to free him. Padma died slowly and painfully in his arms. Terry Boot lost his three best friends, including the love of his life, in the Battle of Hogwarts. Now, he might just lose his mind...


AN: This is an alternate ending to _Lessons, _and hence an alternate universe to all my other Ravenclaw stories. I don't think that you need to read _Lessons _to understand it, but you'll get more of the references if you have. (Hopefully...)

* * *

Terry stared at the blank page of his sketchbook before him.

It was ridiculous, he thought. His sketchbook, an inanimate, defenceless, relatively fragile object, could survive the battle essentially unscathed...and _they, _three bright Ravenclaws, DA members, 7th Years, couldn't.

He continued staring at the page in front of him, and saw the same images that had haunted him for the last two weeks, since the Battle of Hogwarts.

_Michael _duelling, stumbling on a stone, and then being struck by a jet of green light only seconds later...His friend's body crumpling to the ground...

_Anthony _bleeding out from the stump that was all that remained of his left leg, trapped beneath rubble...His last words imploring him to tell his family he loved them, to tell them goodbye for him...

_Padma_ freezing from the inside out because of some horrible curse, dying as he held her in his arms...Her corpse cold and brittle...

And he felt the same emotions, the same pain, that were all he'd felt in the longest two weeks of his life.

_Guilt..._

If he'd just been able to defeat the Death Eater he was duelling, then the infernal man would never have been able to fire a Killing Curse at Michael...Then his friend would have recovered easily from his stumble, and just gone on duelling, and he'd probably be beside him now. He wouldn't have had to face the tearful Mr and Mrs Corner, who'd lost both their sons that terrible night.

If he'd just been able to hear Anthony's cries for help earlier, if he'd been able to clear the rubble faster, if he'd been able to staunch the bleeding better...Then he wouldn't have had to convey his friend's last words to his mother and father and ten-year-old sister Rebecca. He wouldn't have had to look at her tear-stained, innocent face, watch her clutch her mother, sobbing uncontrollably.

If he'd just been able to discover a counter-curse faster (He was a Ravenclaw, for Merlin's sake, and he'd invented spells since he was eleven), or even if he'd just been able to halt the curse's progress...Then he wouldn't have had to hold Padma, his dearest friend (who would have been something more if she'd lived) as she died slowly in torturous pain during the ceasefire.

_Anger..._

At Lord Voldemort (because he wasn't scared any more, not of a dead man, damn it) and his Death Eaters and Pureblood supremacists.

At that particular unidentified Death Eater, Michael's killer, who had dodged every curse that Terry had sent his way.

At Kai Li, former Ravenclaw, now a Death Eater and on the run, who'd been duelling Michael at the moment of his death.

At Parvati Patil, because she wasn't there when her sister died, wasn't with her, comforting her, holding her, trying to save her, like he was. (Even though that's completely illogical, because Parvati didn't know her sister was dying, she was on the other side of the castle, saving her best friend who'd been attacked by Greyback.)

And even at Harry Potter, and the rest of the Golden Trio, and the Order of the Phoenix, because hell, why couldn't they have beaten Lord Voldemort faster?

_And something else, guilt of a more selfish kind, some foreign emotion he can't quite name..._

He was a fool. Padma was the closest friend he'd ever had, the most intelligent, intellectual girl he'd ever known. She was wonderful and kind and beautiful and conscientious. He'd always wanted to make her smile, to make her stop worrying in that illogical and excessive way she'd always worried. He'd always enjoyed their conversations, he'd always found her to be interesting, he'd always been happy to share ideas and books and even his closely-guarded emotions with her.

And there he was, genius Terry Boot, supposedly. He'd been her friend for seven years, and it had taken him until a handful of hours before the Final Battle to realize that he was learning to love her.

It had taken a year of hard and painful lessons, being beaten terribly by the Carrows, and a half-meant comment, a Freudian slip under the influence of a Sleeping Draught, to make him realize that he was learning to love her.

He'd spent his childhood and his teen years (and he considered those over, he was an adult now, and he'd been one since the battle, if not since his 7th Year began) believing love to be a foolish risk, to be something that tended to cause pain, to be something not worth that pain, to be something that he needed to ensure he never found himself in.

He'd spent all those years disciplining himself, controlling himself, to ensure that he'd never fall in love.

And he hadn't. He'd never fell in love, but he'd found himself beginning to learn to love.

But he'd been slow, he hadn't worked out that he was learning to love the only person he thought he'd ever be able to love until hours before her death.

Because he was pretty sure she was the only one he could ever have learned to love.

Padma was one of a kind. He and Padma had been kindred spirits, birds of a feather, on the same page. They'd understood each other in a way that he'd never experienced with anyone else, not even Anthony and Michael.

And she would have been willing to learn how to love him, just as he would have learned how to love her. She'd promised, after all, just hours before her death, that she would.

She would have loved like he would've, slowly, pragmatically, privately.

She would have understood his lack of romance, of red roses and diamonds and fancy dinners, and she would have lacked it herself.

She would have planned their lives together in a rational, practical way, just like he would've.

She would have loved him with the same intensity that he would have loved her, in an _I could live without you, but I don't want to, since being with you makes things so much better _way.

And actually, if he thought about it, she was the only one he'd ever possibly learn to love now.

Because, now that she was dead, he found himself in love with her.

It didn't make much sense, not much sense at all.

The only explanation he could think of was that his emotional state was extremely heightened and abnormal, and that in his mourning, he'd reminisced constantly and fondly about her.

But things making sense didn't matter all that much to him anymore.

He loved her. That he knew.

He was pragmatic enough to know that how or why didn't really matter.

And because she was dead, he'd never find himself out of love with her.

And so, it hurt more every time he remembered holding the only girl, no, the only _woman_ he'd ever love as she died in horrific pain.

It hurt even more every time as he remembered how cold and brittle and fragile her body had been, like an ice sculpture, after her death.

And the most painful memory of all, every single time, was her very last words to him.

'_I'm...sorry, Terry...Find...out...how...to break...this curse...no one...else should...die...like this...Make sure...they rebuild...our...world...properly...'_

Of course, practical and clever Padma understood the most important thing was not winning the war, but ensuring that the world they reconstructed would never give rise to another Voldemort.

And the kind-hearted woman who'd been the DA's Healer this past year would of course want no one else to die the way she had.

But, most galling of all, _she_ had _apologized_ to _him_. _She_ had _blamed herself_ (just as she had always done as long as he'd known her), not anyone else, when it was clearly he who had failed her.

_Just as he'd failed Michael and Anthony. _

* * *

So, Terry strived to make up for his failures. (At least, make up for them as best as possible. He could never bring them back, never save Michael and Anthony and Padma.)

He joined the Aurors, taking up Minister Shacklebolt's offer to veterans of the Battle.

It was what Michael would have done, and would have wanted him to do.

Besides, he was damn good at it. Necessity had made his generation of Hogwarts students strong duellists, with almost sixth-senses for danger, good at spellwork for disguise and stealth. He'd always been observant, and that made him a very good investigator.

And he had that little something now, that drive to bring those who'd done wrong to justice.

Everything that made a great Auror.

He visited the Goldsteins regularly, spending time with Rebecca, writing to her after she started Hogwarts, trying to fill in for the big brother she'd lost.

For Anthony's sake.

And he spent every remaining moment trying to come up with that elusive counter-curse, the one that would have saved Padma.

But it eluded him.

Without knowing the actual curse, with only his memories of how she died, he knew, rationally, that he couldn't do it.

Once upon a time, that would have stopped him. Once upon a time, he had lived by logic and reason.

But now, logic didn't matter so much anymore.

He would keep trying. He would keep trying until he fulfilled her last wish.

He'd do it even if it killed him.

It was for the woman he loved, after all.

* * *

Terry unlocked the door and entered his flat.

It was now four years after the War. Four years since he'd lost Michael and Anthony and Padma. Yet the loss still felt as raw as if it was yesterday.

He poked some Owl Treats into Chandra and Aeolus' shared cage.

The Patils had given him Padma's owl, her books, and her wand after her funeral. They'd said that they thought it would be appropriate to give them to the man she loved.

Terry never bothered to correct them, never bothered to tell them that Padma hadn't loved him when she died; that she had only been learning to love him at the time.

After all, those who'd seen him try to save her, seen him hold her as she'd died, seen him at her funeral, probably thought they'd been in love, such was his demeanour.

Their two owls had taken to one another, and preferred not to be parted.

He gave a bitter bark of laughter.

In a way, the two owls represented what he and Padma could have been.

* * *

'It's all your fault. I'm dead because of you, Terry. Because you couldn't even cast a simple Shield Charm.'

Michael glared at him, and continued.

'Even my bloody idiot Gryffindor of a brother could cast a Shield Charm, and a brilliant Ravenclaw like you just couldn't do it! You know, I wouldn't have minded that I was dead if I'd gone down in a blaze of glory, saving Cho or something like that, but I had to die _because I tripped over a rock and my genius friend couldn't cast a Shield Charm!'_

Terry opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Michael cut him off.

'I hate you!'

Michael had only ever told him he hated him once, when Terry forced him to study for O. . (And this 'I hate you' hurt so much more.)

'You know, for once, I see Mike's point, Terry.'

Terry tore his eyes from Michael, diverting his gaze to Anthony.

'I don't hate you, but I'm sure my family does. After all, you couldn't save their son, their brother. You were always smarter than he was, better at wandwork than he was, better at talking to girls than he was, better at _everything_ than he was. But you couldn't save him. And then, to make things worse, you were the one who told them the bad news. And you tried to be Becca's big brother. You tried to replace me!'

'I guess I have to be the odd one out, then.'

Terry turned at the sound of the familiar voice, to see its owner, Padma.

'I could never, ever hate you, Terry... But why? Why did the one time that you didn't know something, couldn't do something, be the time that you were trying to save me? Why did your one failure have to be saving my life?'

She let out a terrible, heart-breaking sob.

'Why?'

Terry looked around at his three friends.

Michael, glaring daggers at him.

Anthony, looking disappointedly at him.

And most painful of all, Padma, tears running down her face.

'I hate you!'

'You tried to replace me!'

'Why?'

Terry woke with a start.

He was covered with sweat.

_Not again. Not another nightmare._

The clock beside his bed said that it was 4:35 am.

He got out of bed.

There was no point trying to go back to sleep.

It'd be time for him to leave for work before he fell asleep again.

* * *

The next day, he was greeted by Susan Bones as he arrived at work.

'Good morning, Terry. Have you heard the good news?'

He shook his head.

'Morning, Susan. No, I haven't.'

'They've caught another Death Eater.'

He felt hope rise in his chest.

They'd long ago caught the man who'd killed Michael, but Padma's killer was still out there.

'His name?'

'Li. Kai Li. Actually, he used to be a Ravenclaw, I think...'

* * *

Terry stared at the skinny, scruffy, dark-haired man in the holding cell.

He didn't look much like the polished, tidy Kai Li he remembered from his First Year at Hogwarts.

But then again, he didn't remember Kai ever having any Death Eater tendencies either.

_But he must have. One doesn't become a Death Eater overnight. _

_Perhaps that is why Su never talked about him._

Penelope Clearwater walked up to him.

He remembered her clearly from his Hogwarts days, and now they worked together at times. (Penelope was a Ministry Prosecutor.)

'They've finished examining his wand.'

'How many kills?'

'Seven. One while on the run, five Muggles in '98, one at the Battle of Hogwarts.'

Terry took a deep breath, and strove to keep his voice calm.

'Who?'

Penelope looked down, refusing to meet his eyes.

'I'm sorry, Terry. It was Padma Patil.'

She laid a hand on his shoulder.

'I know you two were very close.'

'H-How?'

She shook her head.

'_Glacies cor. _It's not a spell that anyone's ever heard of; we think he must have invented it.'

Terry clenched his fists.

_Of course. Ice heart. Freezing from the inside out. It was so simple. Why didn't I think of it earlier?_

Rage bubbled up inside him.

_Does he know what he did? Does he know just how much pain that spell can do?_

_If he doesn't, I would be happy to tell him. _

_No, telling him wouldn't be enough. Something that is taught sticks much better than something that is told. I'd be happy to teach him how painful his curse is._

He turned and walked abruptly out of the holding cell block, ignoring Penelope's worried voice.

If he didn't get out of there, Kai would never make it to trial.

* * *

Finally, Terry managed to create the counter-curse.

After he'd learnt the incantation, it had been easy. If Kai had ever taught anyone else _glacies cor_, no one else would die from it.

He'd finally fulfilled Padma's last wish.

But he didn't feel any better for it.

But maybe he would if he stood over Kai as he died, watched his face contort in pain just as Padma's had...

He shook his head.

_No. I shouldn't think those thoughts..._

* * *

'Hoot! Hoot-hoot!'

Terry buried his head in his arms, smudging the ink on his letter to Rebecca.

Chandra and Aeolus had had owlets, and while the two owls were usually quiet, Aeolus had been hooting constantly since the birth of his offspring the day before.

_Just like a proud father._

He walked over to the cage.

Perhaps some Owl Treats would quieten him down.

But as he looked upon the owlets, he had the inexplicable urge to throttle them.

Aeolus had Chandra. He had children. He had a happy family.

And because he didn't have that, _couldn't_ have that, he wanted to take it away from him.

Oh, Merlin, he was jealous of his owl.

_It's all Kai's fault. If he hadn't taken Padma away from me...I could have had that too. _

* * *

_The Daily Prophet_ headline blared 'Ex-Death Eater Sentenced: Li to Serve 30 Years in Azkaban'.

Terry glared at the moving mug shot of the ex-Ravenclaw accompanying the article.

Thirty years wasn't enough. Thirty years wasn't nearly enough.

Kai would be out of Azkaban before he was sixty.

Besides, Azkaban wasn't what it used to be. The Dementors were gone now, and it was nowhere near as horrible as it once was.

_It's not fair._

Kai wouldn't suffer much. Kai would get to grow old as a free man. Kai would get to write letters to his parents if he wanted, and they could visit him too.

But Padma had suffered terribly. She'd died in agony. She'd never had the chance to grow old, hell, even to live as an adult (their 7th Year didn't count; they hadn't been living, they'd been surviving). Padma never even got to say goodbye to her parents or her sister.

It just wasn't fair.

He decided to look up what sentence Michael's killer had received.

Marcus Flint. He was Slytherin Quidditch Captain when he was at Hogwarts. Received five years in Azkaban, released after three for good behaviour and evidence of reform. He had been given such a light sentence because he claimed he'd been forced into the Death Eaters by his parents.

Terry snorted with derision.

Michael spent his whole life under the shadow of his older brother Matthew. His brave, Gryffindor, Quiddich-playing brother.

A major reason for him joining the DA, fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts had been to prove that he was just as brave as Matthew was, to fulfil the desire to be a hero that had been instilled in him because of Matthew.

That didn't mean the Killing Curse just stunned him instead.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't just.

The entire point of the legal system was to get justice.

_This_ wasn't justice.

Someone had to do something about it.

_He_ had to do something about it.

Padma and Michael and Anthony and everyone else deserved justice. _He deserved justice._

He was an Auror. He was a servant of justice.

He had to do something about it.

Besides, justice would feel good.

Kai writhing in pain, dying a slow and torturous death.

Flint dying young, a life's potential stolen in seconds.

_Yes, that would feel good indeed._

* * *

'How should I do it, Mike?'

The dark-haired young man shrugged.

'I don't know, Terry. Something poetic, I think. Something to highlight how much of a coward he was, while also showing how brave I was.'

Terry grinned.

'I think I've got just the thing, Mike. How would you feel if Flint took the so-called coward's way out?'

The other boy smiled.

'You mean if he took his own life? That's poetic justice, Terry.'

'Exactly. I'm glad we're on the same page for once, Mike. Now, what should I do about Kai?'

'You could burn him to death from the inside. It'd go with the whole poetic justice theme you've got going on.'

Terry smiled.

'Brilliant idea, Mike. Thanks. Oh, and could you keep this between the two of us? I'd rather Pad didn't find out about this, I don't want to scare her, and Tony wouldn't be able to keep this a secret.'

The other young man nodded.

'Of course, Terry. See you later.'

'See you later, Mike.'

Meanwhile, in their cage, Chandra and Aeolus exchanged a glance. They pulled their owlets closer towards them.

Their Master was talking to a wall.

* * *

Terry grinned as he read _The Daily Prophet. _

'_Freed Ex-Death Eater Commits Suicide'_

Finally. Justice for Michael. Flint was dead, by the very same hand that had killed his friend. He'd gone out the coward's way, destroying his very own life, his very own potential.

_Just like he destroyed Mike's. _

_Mike died a brave man. Mike was a brave man. _

_Flint was a coward. Flint died a coward._

_Now that's justice._

Terry smirked as he remembered just how good it felt, just how easy it had been. Flint's mind was weak, so easy to control with his modified _Imperius._

He'd sacrificed the duration it would last, and its strength, to make it virtually undetectable. The curse could only last a few minutes at a time, so needed regular re-casting, and instead of giving the caster complete control of the castee, the caster could only implant suggestions into the castee's mind.

But that had been enough for his purposes.

He laughed as he remembered Flint placing his wand tip on the side of his head, and casting the Killing Curse.

_One down, one to go._

* * *

Terry nodded at the Azkaban guard who let him into the cell.

'Thank you.'

The guard nodded back.

'Just call out if you need anything, Auror Boot.'

Terry silently cast a _Muffliato._

(Harry and Ron had readily taught their fellow Aurors that handy spell.)

He smirked at the man in the corner of the cell.

'Hello, Kai.'

The murderer looked up at him.

'Boot.'

He spat Terry's name as if it were a curse.

_And it would be, for Kai..._

'_Ardenti corde!'_

The Death Eater's eyes widened.

He knew what that spell meant for him.

And he could do nothing about it.

Terry watched as an expression of pain slowly appeared on Kai's face.

His death would be a long, slow burn.

Agonizing, just like Padma's.

His laughter mingled with Kai's screams.

* * *

Terry woke with a start.

He looked around, disorientated for a moment.

Then he smiled.

He was in his own bed.

He sat up, and was greeted by the sight of a familiar face.

'Good morning, Pad.'

The young Indian woman smiled at him.

'Good morning, Terry. You've slept in much later than usual today.'

He smirked.

'Someone kept me up late last night.'

Padma blushed.

'True...There's breakfast on the table for you.'

He got out of bed, stretched and looked her up and down.

'You look very blue today, Pad.'

She was wearing blue bootleg jeans and a royal blue sweater.

'Well, it is my favourite colour, and yours too.'

He nodded.

'And part of the reason why I was up so late last night...'

'That was way too much information, Terry. Look, you've turned Tony beetroot red!'

Michael and Anthony entered the room.

Terry rolled his eyes.

'Pot calling the kettle black, Mike.'

'We do hear way more than we'd like about your love life, Mike.'

'Shut up, Tony! It's much more disturbing when it's Terry and Pad; it's like thinking about your parents doing it!'

Terry tossed his pillow at Michael.

'That was a mental image that none of us had any want for, Mike.'

* * *

Rose watched through the window in the door as the man tossed a pillow at thin air.

'He must be out of his mind...'

Scorpius squeezed her hand.

'Um...Rose...'

She whirled around, to see a woman in Healer's robes before them.

The woman smiled kindly at them.

'Hello. Are you two lost?'

Scorpius shook his head.

'No, ma'am. We're here with our friend Alice. She's visiting her grandparents, Alice and Frank Longbottom. They're in the ward just next door, but we thought we'd give them some privacy. Alice is introducing her boyfriend, Albus, who happens to be my best friend, and Rose here's cousin, to them for the first time.'

'Rose? Albus? Alice? As in the Weasley-Potter-Longbottom children?'

Scorpius nodded.

'The very same.'

The Healer smiled.

'And that would make you Scorpius Malfoy, would it not?'

'Indeed. You're very well-informed.'

Some sadness appeared in the Healer's eyes.

'My older brother was in the DA. Same year as Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and your father.'

Scorpius grimaced.

'I'm-'

'Don't apologize. You're not him. Besides, I think you have more important things to worry about! Your girlfriend is staring quite intently at my patient.'

Rose was indeed transfixed by the man in the locked hospital room, who was now talking animatedly with thin air.

Scorpius coloured.

'She's not my girlfriend.'

The Healer looked pointedly at their entwined hands.

Scorpius tugged on Rose's hand again, more insistently this time.

Finally, the curly-haired girl tore her eyes from the window.

'Sorry, I was just really curious about him and how he's acting. It's the Ravenclaw in me.'

The Healer grinned.

'I know that feeling; I was a Ravenclaw myself back at Hogwarts.'

Rose smiled.

'If you don't mind me asking, who is that man?'

The Healer sighed.

'His name is Terry Boot. He was a Ravenclaw, same year as your parents. He was in the DA, fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. He later became an Auror, and worked with your dad, Rose. He...he was also one of my brother's closest friends, and after Ant died in the Battle of Hogwarts, he did his best to try and make up for the brother I'd lost.'

Rose's eyes widened.

'I'm sorry.'

The Healer smiled sadly.

'It's okay. It was a very, very long time ago.'

'If...if you don't mind me asking, why is he here?'

Scorpius tried to pull her away.

'Rose! Have you no tact?'

The Healer gave a light laugh.

'It's fine, Scorpius. I understand the Ravenclaw curiosity. Terry is in here because he murdered two people, both of them ex-Death Eaters.'

Rose's brow furrowed.

'Then shouldn't he be in Azkaban, not St Mungo's?'

The Healer shook her head.

'He was found not guilty, on grounds of insanity, and committed to St Mungo's for life.'

'Why...why would he do it? He was a war hero, wasn't he? And an Auror? Why would he do something so terrible? Well, I know he's insane, but...'

The Healer nodded.

'It's still hard to understand how he got that way, and therefore why he did it. To be honest, I don't really know. I don't think anyone will ever know. But this might give you some insight into how he lost his sanity.'

She reached into her pocket, and handed Rose a sheet of parchment.

'It's a letter that he sent me, in Third Year, just before the trial of the infamous Ravenclaw Death Eater.'

The ink was smudged slightly, but it was still legible.

_I keep thinking about the possibilities, Becca. The what-ifs, the maybes, the could-have-beens. I guess it's because I'm a Ravenclaw through and through, you understand, don't you?_

_I keep thinking, what if Mike didn't trip on that rock? Then he wouldn't have been hit by that Killing Curse, and he'd have defeated Kai. I wouldn't have lost a friend for a stupid reason. Then Kai would never have been able to curse Pad, and she'd never have died. We would've learned to love each other. Mike would have helped me to find Tony, helped me to clear the rubble, helped me to stem the bleeding and carry him to the Healers. Then you'd still have a brother, and I'd still have a dear friend._

_I know it's pointless and illogical to think about what-ifs, but this one is so beautiful, so wonderful, so intoxicating. There's probably an alternate universe out there in which Mike didn't trip on that rock. I would be so happy in that alternate universe..._

Rose looked up at the Healer.

'He...he lost a lot, didn't he?'

She nodded.

'He lost everything, Rose.'

Rose handed back the letter.

'Thanks, Healer...?'

'Goldstein. Rebecca Goldstein.'

* * *

AN: I am really not quite sure where that came from...Insane!Terry with a dose of next-gen and Rose/Scorpius.

I'm really not quite sure why I decided to torture poor Terry so much...*SPOILERS FOR _LESSONS_* He doesn't know that the alternate universe he was thinking about is the one that is in my _Lessons/If Three's a Crowd/For Your Consideration/The Plan/Justice/What Could Have Been/Those of Wit and Learning/Reversing Causality/No Such Thing as an Ordinary Day _universe.

In the _Lessons_ universe, Michael doesn't trip over on the rock, so doesn't die, and stuns Kai. Therefore, Kai never curses Padma, and Michael and Terry are able to save Anthony, so all four survive the Battle and Terry never goes crazy.

For what Terry's Post-War life was like in that much happier universe, see the ending of _Lessons, For Your Consideration _and _The Plan. _

Suggested reading order: _Lessons, The Plan, For Your Consideration_

_If Three's a Crowd _and _Those of Wit and Learning _are all about Michael, Anthony, Terry and Padma's friendship, _Justice _is a discussion between Anthony and Lisa Turpin, _Reversing Causality _contains more Terry angst.

Oh, and _No Such Thing as an Ordinary Day _contains, among other things, crack! explanations for why Trevor the toad is always disappearing and why Mrs Weasley always gives Ron maroon stuff.


End file.
